


Stay With Me

by JamOnToast



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season 12 spoilers, The BAU Team as Family (Criminal Minds), luke is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamOnToast/pseuds/JamOnToast
Summary: It's Spencer's first night home after three months in prison. He doesn't want to be alone. Luke makes sure he isn't.
Relationships: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid
Kudos: 5





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on my tumblr (pumpkin-stars)

It’s been over three months.

The last time he was here he was still bright eyed and (comparatively) innocent, just trying to do his best for his mom and worried that unless he left here as soon as possible she’d get worse. He’d give anything to go back that morning and not take the trip to Mexico… His mom’s been fine without the drugs, sure she’s a little unstable but it’s nothing new. He could’ve coped and helped her through it… instead of abandoning her again.

But she’s safe now, in a care facility that knows how to handle schizophrenic alzheimer's patients… And he’s home.

Home.

This little apartment that’s seen him through it all for over a decade… the skinny kid who came to DC with the promise he’d be able to help people… the lost and frightened guy who shot up on the bathroom floor and didn’t know how to stop… the sleepless nights filled with shadows and the screams of people he couldn’t save… the face of a woman he thought he could love but never got the chance to…

He sees his past in every part of this place, but he doesn’t feel like it’s his. The man who left this apartment three months ago isn’t the same one entering it now.

He swallows hard as he steps further inside, hearing the door click shut behind him and the rustling of a coat being hung on the rack. He shuffles further in, looking but not seeing… profiling the owner, spotting the behavioural patterns and his wants and desires… comparing them to himself in a way that makes his chest ache.

His palm comes up to rub his eye, those awful headaches coming back with a vengeance in the soft late-afternoon sunlight. He needs his glasses, but he already knows the prescription won’t work anymore. It’s been too long since he got any real light, having a month of avoiding the yard and a week of solitary… those awful fluorescent beam lights buzzing away and frying his already abysmal eyesight to shit.

He flinches forward, feeling movement behind him, then takes a shuddering breath as he reminds himself he’s safe. It’s just Luke.

“Sorry, Spencer.” Luke moves his hand back, drawing away after the broken man in front of him jumps at the thought of an unexpected kind touch. “Why don’t you sit down, I’ll grab you a drink?”

“Do I have anything that isn’t mouldy?” He wonders, but follows the instruction to sink into the couch as Luke puts his back to him and goes through his cupboards. It’s soft… and he feels like he’s going to be swallowed by the cushions… there’s space at his back… someone could come up and… he stands quickly and moves to the armchair, the firmer seat holding him upright and steady against the wall.

“Uh, Garcia took the liberty,” Luke turns back, waving a box of chamomile teabags at him, “You’ve probably got enough to feed an army.”

Spencer nods, dazed, and turns to the nearest bookshelf, frowning. “No dust…” he mumbles.

“What’s that?” Luke asks, then realises, “Oh, yeah, we all… We took turns, Spencer. We didn’t want you to come back to an abandoned apartment so we’d come round every week or so to clean up. Everything’s where it was just… not dusty.”

Spencer turns his head to the hands in his lap, desperately fighting back the tears that threaten to fall at the thought of his friends - his family - caring for him like this when he was gone. When, for all they knew, he was guilty.

“Spencer?” Luke gets his attention again, “You got a specific mug you wanna use?”

He blinks at him for a moment, realising that - for the first time - Luke’s calling him Spencer regularly instead of Reid. His lip quirks a little, knowing the ex-army guy would know the importance of people using his first name and not his last. He’s not been called Spencer for so long… “T-there’s a blue one.” He blinks again, remembering where he left it, “Second shelf, on the left. You can have the yellow one next to it.” He offers. Luke nods with a grin, and finishes making their tea.

They drink in silence, Luke content across the room on the couch, but keeping a watchful eye on his friend in case something triggers his PTSS. Spencer just looks around the room, reacquainting himself with his home, smiling at the little unicorn on the table - a new and welcome addition to his clutter. He sips sporadically, when he remembers the mug in his hands after his thoughts trail off along various pathways, his head full of paragraphs yet empty of words.

It’s Luke standing from the couch that draws his attention out from inside his head. He motions for the mug in his hands, smiling kindly at the half-full stone-cold contents.

“Rossi made pasta, you want me to heat it up?” He asks.

Spencer states, silent, unused to the opportunity to make a choice. But he nods and rasps out a “thanks.”

A few minutes later, a few more thoughts that fill his head and fly away, and Luke is back, handing him the little tray he usually takes to bed, plate piled high with spaghetti and a glass of water beside.

He frowns, “A-are you not having some?” He wonders. His heart pounds… this unfamiliar familiar space seems daunting with Luke there, but if he leaves… Spencer doesn’t know if he’ll cope.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to stay. We thought you might wanna get used to things alone.” Luke smiles. It brings a blush to Spencer’s cheeks - that slightly lopsided, overly enthusiastic, face-splitting grin always made his heart flutter, and seeing it now? After months of harsh lines and frowns?

“I don’t want you to go.” He admits quietly.

Luke’s smile widens, if that was at all possible, “Then I’ll stay, Spencer. Until you tell me to go.”

He smiles back, bottom lip quivering a little. His hands shake as he lifts the cutlery, winding spaghetti onto his fork as Luke retreats to the kitchen once more, taking another of the tupperwares filled with - oh  _ god _ what is this?

His mouth waters at the taste, eyes shut tight as he savours the flavour on his tongue… It’s almost overwhelming… Three months of bland, tasteless platefuls… And now  _ this _ …

“Spencer? Spencer, hey, it’s okay man, what’s wrong?” Luke’s in front of him when his eyes open. “What’s wrong? Is it still cold?”

“W-what?” He’s confused. Then he feels the tear running down his cheek. “Y-yeah it just… it tastes so good. Best thing I’ve ever had.”

Luke’s worry leaves his face, but Spencer can still see it in his eyes, “I’ll let Rossi know.”

It draws a surprised laugh from the tired genius, just one little burst - it’s the first time he’s laughed since… since he’s not sure when.

There are a couple more tiny laughs through the afternoon and into the evening, Spencer remains in the armchair while Luke moves around the apartment, grabbing water, or more tea (which Spencer remembers to drink hot). He gets a little twitchy around 5pm, and asks if he can take a shower.

Luke’s smile falls, “Of course, Spencer. This is your apartment. It’s okay, you do whatever you want, alright?”

He nods, swallows hard, and pulls himself out of the chair, shuffling down the little corridor to the bathroom, remembering to open the door for himself.

“Luke?” He calls after a moment, “C-can you wait by the door?”

It’s not something he wants to think of, but he’d had enough of communal showers in those three months, and the thought of someone barging in and seeing him vulnerable while he finally washes the prison from his body is too much - but he trusts Luke. He knows he’ll stop anyone coming in… And he knows that… should he decide to sit under the water, let out all those emotions he’s bottled up since before Mexico, that Luke won’t interrupt unless he’s there for hours.

Luke won’t judge.

Spencer smiles as the other man joins him in the doorway, sinks into his touch as a warm hand is placed on his back, the instruction to  _ take your time _ playing through his mind as he closes the door and starts to shed his clothes.

By 8pm, he’s tired out, and he was pretty sure Luke would be itching to leave by now, but they’re sitting together on the floor - not the couch - with his tiny DVD player between them, an old episode of Star Trek filling the screen. Their backs are against the couch, legs extending straight out - Luke has one folded beneath him. Spencer’s freshly washed hair is already sticking up in every direction, his favourite fuzzy socks covering his feet, keeping him warm and grounded in  _ now _ and not  _ then _ . He leans to the side a little, body tilting towards Luke’s and looks with wide eyes into the soft gaze of his  _ friend _ … Wordlessly, Luke smiles softly and lifts an arm, beckoning Spencer into his side, letting him use his shoulder as a pillow as they watch Spock, Bones, and Kirk face off against the latest threat to the Enterprise. It’s one of Spencer’s favourite episodes, and Luke’s enthralled by the events.

“What  _ is _ a tribble?” He wonders, glancing down at Spencer, hiding his grin. He’ll never admit it, but he’s a closet Trekkie, and knows exactly what’s going on - but he hasn’t heard the genius ramble for the longest time - he’s missed it, and he just wants to give his  _ friend _ the opportunity to feel more like himself.

By 10pm, Spencer’s almost falling asleep in Luke’s arms, so he decides to head to bed. He sits up and looks awkwardly at the other man, asking “Do you need to get home? How’s Roxy?”

“I can stay as long as you want, Spencer.” Luke repeats, “And she’s with Rossi so she’ll be fine for a couple of days if you need me to stick around.”

The genius blushes, “Will you be alright on the couch?”

“Yeah.” Luke grins. “I’ve slept on worse.”

“Me too.” Spencer smiles sadly. He feels awkward - more than usual, “I… I’ll grab you a blanket.” He darts from the floor, heading to the linen closet to grab the blanket Penelope had gifted on his last birthday. She’d been to Disneyworld, picked up a Monsters Inc. blanket, and the blue-with-purple-spots was so large it could probably trail from one end of the jet to the other should it be cold on a return flight. He hopes Luke will be comfortable with it, he’s not sure how he sleeps, if he likes to be all bundled up or prefers to spread out like a starfish across the sheets. Either way, the blanket is Luke’s for the night. Spencer’s gotten used to a ratty blanket and not much heat.

He leaves Luke to get settled, knowing he’ll have the essentials in his go-bag, and returns to the bathroom to go through his not-so-usual-anymore routine.

It’s gone midnight before he admits that he can’t sleep. He pulls himself off the mattress and pads to the door, looking down the hall to see if he can spot Luke - he’s curled on the couch, giant blanket pooled at his feet, and the lamp is on, illuminating the open book in his hands.

“You’re still awake?” Spencer asks before he can stop himself.

Luke looks up, “Hey,” He smiles, “Yeah, it’s… I guess I’m not as tired as I thought. You alright?”

“I feel like I’m lying on a marshmallow.” He frowns, “Like I’m gonna sink through it and end up on the floor under the bed.”

His book is discarded as he jumps up from the couch, urging Spencer back into the bedroom. Not knowing what’s happening, Spencer sits up by the pillows, on top of the covers, waiting to see what Luke’s about to do.

“Here,” Luke holds a hand out to him, soft and reassuring smile now firmly in place. “I know what might help.”

There’s not a moment of hesitation - Spencer takes his hand and lets him pull him from the bed. Luke grabs two pillows, points to the comforter, and leaves the bedroom. Spencer grabs the fluffy covers and follows him, curious about what’s going on.

By the time he sets the comforter down on the floor beside the coffee table, Luke has set up the pillows side by side in front of the couch. The big blanket is quickly folded in half and spread out across the floor, coffee table set aside.

“You’ve got used to sleeping on solid surfaces, right?” Luke grins, “I learnt this little trick after I left the Rangers. You gotta take baby steps to get back to normal, and sometimes that means sleeping on the floor for a few days. Maybe even a few weeks.”

Spencer edges closer, sinking to the floor slowly, settling into the makeshift ‘bed’ with a shy smile. Luke lies beside him, silently checking his presence is okay. When Spencer nods, he pulls the comforter over them both, turning onto his side to look at the genius as he wriggles in place.

“Okay?”

Spencer turns his head, “Yeah.”

By 2am (although neither realises it until around 7am), they’re wrapped in each other’s arms.


End file.
